Re-enter TREbonius. Fled to his house amazed: Cas. Where's Antony? Tre. Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run, As it were doomsday. Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures. That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time, And drawing days out, that men stand upon. Cas. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts off so many years of fearing death. Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit: So are we Cæsar's friends, that have abridged His time of fearing death.-Stoop, Romans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in Cæsar's blood Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: Then walk we forth, even to the market-place; And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, Let's all cry, 'Peace! Freedom! and Liberty!' Cas. Stoop then, and wash.-How many ages hence, Shall this our lofty scene be acted over, In states unborn, and accents yet unknown! Bru. How many times shall Cæsar bleed in sport, That now on Pompey's basis lies along, No worthier than the dust! Cas. So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be call'd Ay, every man away: Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels Enter SERVANT. Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's. Ser. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel; Tell him, so please him come unto this place, Derart untouch'd. Ser. I'll fetch him presently. [Exit Servant. Bru. I know that we shall have him well to friend.' Cas. I wish we may: but yet have I a mind, That fears him much; and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose. Re-enter ANTONY. Bru. But here comes Antony.-Welcome, Mark Ant. O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lie so low? As Cæsar's death's hour; nor no instrument Of half that worth, as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world. I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, No place will please me so, no mean of death, Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us. 1 'i. e. grown too high for the public safety.' -Johnson. SHAK. XI. Y And this the bleeding business they have done. Hath done this deed on Cæsar. For your part, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony: Our arms, in strength of malice,1 and our hearts, With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. In the disposing of new dignities. Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeased Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck him, Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom. Let each man render me his bloody hand. First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you ;Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand ;Now, Decius Brutus, yours;-now yours, Metel lus ; Yours, Cinna;—and, my valiant Casca, yours ; Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius. Gentlemen all,-alas! what shall I say? My credit now stands on such slippery ground, 1 Strong in the deed of seeming malice just performed. That one of two bad ways you must conceit me ;— Either a coward or a flatterer. That I did love thee, Cæsar, O, 'tis true: If then thy spirit look upon us now, Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death, Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, Pardon me, Julius!-Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart; Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand, Dost thou here lie! Cas. Mark Antony, Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassius: The enemies of Cæsar shall say this; Cas. I blame you not for praising Cæsar so; Used by old writers for death. |